


down this road, where all our colors run together

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character study (sort of), Friendship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Romance from Other's Perspective, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: From her seat, Anathema gets the most clear view of Crowley tightening his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder. And that's when realisation dawning on her.Crowley and Aziraphale don't have auras.





	down this road, where all our colors run together

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [down this road, where all our colors run together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197973) by [randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13). 



> **disclaimer & note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
>   * The title is taken from Cinderblock Garden, popularized by All Time Low & is part of the Future Hearts album (2015); written by Alexander William Gaskarth, David Hodges, and Cameron Walker.
> 
>   * The author does not any take material advantage from writing this fanfiction.
> 
> 


**i**.

There are some things that is impossible to avoid, even after you've tried your best to avoid it. One of those things is being psychic. Okay, Anathema never identifies herself as a psychic or medium or something. That's more like Madam Tracy's area. Anathema will gladly call herself an occultist or even a witch, but _certainly,_ not psychic.

In her opinion, psychic cannot be trusted. Of course, she wouldn't say this to Madam Tracy. It will offend her. Anathema is just, you know, it's quite hard to trust them. Even though if you think about it, it is quite hypocritical not to trust a psychic but spending all of your life understanding more than 4000 prophecies from centuries ago.

Anathema and Newton have burned all of Agnes's relics, but try to spend 20 years of your life to take notes and interpret the meanings of thousands prophecies from your ancestor's legacy, some must be left in your memory.

This is what Anathema is experiencing, on a sunny and cloudless day—according to the weather forecast.

"Are you thinking about those prophecies again?" Newton's voice creeps in. He frowns, when Anathema jerks slightly. "Can't you, I don't know, bewitch it so it won't bother you anymore? You've been staring at the wall for a full ten minutes."

Anathema knows that Newton means well, but she can't help to snort anyway. "I don't have that power, dumbass."

Newton shrugs. "Just suggestion." He puts a stack of newspapers on the table, then takes a seat next to her. "What is it, this time?"

One of the oldest rules in the Device family is to never discuss family secrets (in this case, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter) to just any people. But, it had been a year since the two of them burned those post-armageddon's prophecies from Agnes, Anathema doesn't know why she shouldn't discuss this with him.

"Number 1129," she cites. " _The son of Adam wilt sendeth ye to a journey of four wind directions, to deliver the letter for the swan and the crow. Ye wilt see the sooth did stretch by thy wings, across the blue sky and the forest of green. Ye shouldst learneth._ "

"You're commanded to meet the duck?"

Newton can be so stupid, sometimes. Anathema sighs. "Not duck, but a swan and a crow."

"To do what? Feed them?"

"I was asked to learn the truth stretched by their wings."

"That's absurd."

Anathema rolls her eyes. "I told you, you won't—"

That's when the bell rings.

Somehow, it is the moment Anathema knows.

**ii**.

Adam Young is on her porch, grinning widely as Anathema opens the door. At his feet, a small dog named, well ... _Dog_ , is way too busy chasing its tail (also too enthusiastically, which could potentially make Adam stumble if the boy moves just an inch).

"Oh, hi, Adam," Anathema greets. "What a pleasant surprise. Didn't think you'd come to visit."

Adam's grin faded. "You don't foresee me coming?"

Anathema catches the clear disappointment in Adam's voice, as if Anathema knowing already that he will be coming is the most important thing in the world. _Kids, I will never understand them_ , she thinks.

"Oh! Of course, I see you." Anathema says hurriedly. "I'm just pretending," then with a conspiratory wink, she whispers, "trying to blend in with mundane. You know, witches must be able to do that."

Adam nods approvingly. "Understandable."

Anathema straightens her posture, still smiling. She is about to let Adam in, but the boy shakes his head.

"Don't need to. I just want to deliver these invitations." Adam hands over three blue envelopes. "It's my twelfth birthday, next week. I want you to come, you and Newton."

"Why are there three envelopes?" Anathema takes the offered items.

"Oh, I arranged your name and Newton's in one invitation," Adam says, waving an envelope that read: _Witch Anathema and Newspaperman Newton, in Jasmine Cottage_. "I hope, you as a witch and Newton as a newspaperman can help me deliver the other two."

Nobody calls Newton a newspaperman, but Adam. "Whom are those for, the other invitations?"

Adam turns the second envelope so that the writing on the surface can be seen: _The Army Man and Madam Fortune-teller, somewhere_. "This is for The Army Man and Madam Fortune-teller. You know, I have never been friends with soldier or fortune-teller before. It would be great if they could come. But I don't know where their address is."

The Army Man and Madam Fortune-teller in question are Mr. Shadwell and Madam Tracy. Newton knows where they live.

"And this one?"

Anathema reads, _Mr. Angel and Mr. Not-Angel, in Soho_.

"I've never been to Soho, I can get lost." Adam adds helpfully.

The pair of supernatural beings who had helped them averting The Armageddon seemed to be important enough to Adam that they deserve their own invitation.

"I can help you deliver it." Anathema's mouth overrides her common-sense.

Adam claps happily. "Good! I can't wait! Mum always says that it's inappropriate to befriend people who's way older than me, but age is just a number, right? Besides, you guys are cool people—weird, but good, I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind."

Anathema opens her mouth to argue, but Adam has waved and half running towards the front fence. "Bye, Anathema! Come on, Dog, race to Brian!"

Five minutes later, Newton pokes her shoulder and asks what she is doing, standing in the doorway, Anathema just smiles. "We have to deliver the invitations."

**iii**.

Soho has not never been busy. Everyone knows this, except people who have never been to Soho. For them, visiting the Soho area may become a special experience. To enjoy or maybe not to enjoy—your choice—a row of various shops that adorn the street. It's impossible to roam in this place without meeting other people. They are everywhere. In bakery, in cafe, in boutique, in beauty salons, in barber shops, and also, in bookshop.

The A.Z. Fell & Co is located at the corner of the crossroads which connects the roads from four different directions. _Four wind directions_ , according to Agnes. Anathema stops for a moment, admiring the architecture of the building, before taking a deep breath and stepping in.

Aziraphale's bookshop even looks more antique inside. Stacks of books towering in every corner. There are only a few people here. A middle-aged man, browsing a thick book. She doesn't get the clear view of the cover—it's something that ends with -tis, and Anathema crosses her fingers hoping that it is only a book about lung disease, not about magic or how to end the world (again).

She also spots a middle-aged woman standing across the room with an old magazine (some kind of beauty magazine from the 19th century), a bearded and creepy-looking man (frowning deeply, as if he's trying to understand the contents of _Plant Care from Ancient Greek Times: The Best!_ ), and a little girl enjoying _Alphabets for Pirates_.

But, she does not see Aziraphale.

Anathema clears her throat. "Um, excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Fell?"

There was a noise from the back area of the bookshop, and Aziraphale shouting, ' _Oh yes, I'm coming!_ ' followed by grunts and the sound of something dropping.

In less than a minute, Aziraphale is standing before her, still somewhat out of breath. His suit crumples here and there, his hair is a nest of disaster. Anathema feels something is shivering in the air, but she's not sure what it is.

Aziraphale blushes when Anathema just stares at him without being able to say anything.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Device," he says cheerfully in his poor attempt to distract Anathema from his messy appearance. "To what, I owe you this pleasure? Are you looking for divination books? I'm afraid I no longer have any copy of the third edition of Trawlney. The last one sold last week and—"

"Mr. Fell, I didn't mean to buy a book." Anathema cuts off. "I come here to deliver an invitation."

"Ah." Aziraphale smiles, then he frowns in confusion. "Oh, what invitation? From who?"

"Adam Young, the little boy from Lower Tadfield?" Anathema refrains from adding ' _the one who almost caused The Armageddon, but now he is just an ordinary boy?_ ', instead she hands him the envelope. "Next week is his twelfth birthday. He hopes for you and your husband to attend."

Aziraphale's eyes widen visibly. But before he can say anything, another voice interrupting.

"Birthday party! It's been a long time since the last time, eh, Aziraphale?"

A tall male figure with sunglasses and bright red hair, emerges to stand next to Aziraphale. His black suit made him blend well with the darkness. There's something uncanny radiating from him, and she's surprised to realise the low intensity, as if the presence of Aziraphale balance whatever it is.

"Book Girl!" Anathema blinks. The man grins devilishly. "Part-time demon, Crowley."

Part-time demon. They are not Mr. Angel and Mr. Not-Angel, they are _Mr. Angel and Mr. Demon_.

Aziraphale elbows him. "I told you, her name is Miss Device."

"Just Anathema, please," She interjects, automatically.

"Oh yes, alright. Hello, Miss Just Anathema." Crowley slurs teasingly. It may sound ridiculous, but Anathema is sure those eyes of him winking at her, behind the lens. She shudders slightly, and Crowley smirks in satisfaction as if that is the exact reaction he has expected.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. He cups his hands over Anathema's. "We are very honoured, of course, we'll be there."

Then he whispers, "Does Adam like magic tricks?"

In the background, Crowley groans. " _Really, Aziraphale? Not again!_ "

**iv**.

To say that Deirdre Young feels very grateful to have Anathema and Newt coming early, is not an exaggeration. Obvious relief washed her face, and she eagerly led Anathema to the kitchen. Newton just grinned at her expression, before he rushed to help Deirdre's husband who was trying to set up a large umbrella to overshadow the serving table when Anathema glared back at him.

This birthday is more special than Adam's previous birthdays. Deirdre said that Adam had been very well-behaved lately. He got good grades in school, no more neighbours complained about being pranked by Adam and his friends again, even their fussy neighborhood-watch, R.P. Tyler visited them last week to give a basket of apples _that could finally be harvested since Adam no longer disturbed the trees._

In short, for the same tranquillity in the future, Deirdre and Arthur won't mind making a special birthday party that is only celebrated once a year.

"And Hallowe'en." Deirdre adds, taking out two pies from the oven. "Whatever costume Adam would ask for, if it can make him behave this well, we will grant it."

Anathema nods. She always believes that there is goodness in Adam. Watching Deirdre wholeheartedly prepares this party, she is sure that his mother thinks the same.

When the tea time comes, all foods and drinks have been served. Arthur Young has installed a horse-shaped piñata. Dog is barking at the strange thing. Adam and the Them had just returned, and Deirdre looks relieved that their clothes seems clean. Mud stain or any stain from whatever the kids are playing these days, will certainly dampen the mood.

Aside from the Them, Newton, and Anathema, there were only four other people invited—so, it seems excessive to say that the guests begin to arrive. Although technically, they are more than one guest, and they have just set their foot in the Young family's house. 

Madam Tracy and Mr. Shadwell arrive in time.

To Anathema's relief, both are dressed casually. Madam Tracy brings her liver casserole as an additional dish for Deirdre, while Mr. Shadwell gives the boy a large box. Adam looks very happy, and Arthur is worried already about the gift his son possibly get

Aziraphale and Crowley arrive shortly afterwards. Anathema doesn't see a magician's hat or anything that looks extraordinary of Aziraphale, so she assumes Crowley has managed to persuade him to refrain the impromptu magic show.

As soon as Adam catches them, the boy immediately running and jumping to hug them both. Aziraphale seems surprised but very happy to return the hug. But, Crowley's reaction is priceless. He looks so spooked and petrified.

"I'm glad you can come!" Adam grins, then grabbing their hands, tugging them to follow him. "Come on, you have to see my piñata! So big! Mum says it got candies and chocolates and even toys too!"

Adam's infectious enthusiasm affects the atmosphere greatly. Anathema finds herself standing closer to Newton, taking his left hand. Newton merely raises his eyebrows, but he squeezes back.

"Let's see Adam break the piñata."

**v**.

Anathema realised the true motive of Adam's too good behaviour when he approached Aziraphale and Crowley while everyone was busy enjoying the meal and chatting. Well, it's not only Adam, but all the Them—Pepper, Wensleydale, and Brian. 

Arthur, Mr. Shadwell, and Newton were involved in serious conversation about electronics, while Deirdre and Madam Tracy were discussing family recipes excitedly. Anathema sat close enough to Aziraphale and Crowley, so she could not help eavesdropping.

"I thought it was not allowed!" Brian exclaims loudly. Pepper immediately knocks his forehead, ' _lower your voice, idiot!_ '

Aziraphale shakes his head. "No, not really. Just because no one does it before us doesn't mean it's prohibited." Then he turns to Crowley with a worried expression. "Isn't it?"

Crowley grins. "The essence of God is love, I think what happens between us, is not against His will."

Aziraphale smiles adoringly. Anathema tries her best not to coo ' _Aww, how sweet!_ ', Wensleydale precedes her. "You look, um, what is that term—"

"—adorable?" Brian replied. Aziraphale is still smiling.

"—compassionate?" Adam said.

Wensleydale snaps his fingers. "Right! Compassionate!" Brian pouts when Wensley doesn't pick his suggestion. Wensleydale sees his expression then added quickly. "And also really adorable!"

Pepper snorts, clearly underestimating her peer. Anathema was worried that the girl would voice the opposite opinion, when Pepper begins to speak. "I actually think they are very complementary. You know, black and white, good and bad, wrong and right? Everything about you two are complete opposite, but you find a meeting point to be together. Sounds like a true love."

Now, Aziraphale looks so touched that he almost cries. Anathema cannot see Crowley's eyes but the demon inhales deeply as if he's affected just as much.

"Oh, dear, that's very beautiful." Pepper grins proudly.

"I have to admit, you're a smart girl, Pepper," Crowley adds, making her reddened. From her seat, Anathema gets the most clear view of Crowley tightening his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder. And that's when realisation dawning on her.

Crowley and Aziraphale don't have auras.

You know, everyone has a beam of colour around them that represents the mood and core characteristics of the said person. It takes a deep concentration for Anathema to pass through the mortal veil and see someone's aura. More effort to realise that Adam is not without an aura. Adam's aura is everywhere, surrounding Tadfield like a pulsating colour membrane.

Anathema focuses harder. She knows Aziraphale and Crowley are not human, and she's not sure whether supernatural creatures have auras, but if the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse could be seen by her—of course, there must be something, right?

And there is.

Aziraphale and Crowley do not have auras that surround their entire body, like human. Neither of them emitted an aura that absorbs the energy around them like the Four Horsemen.

Aziraphale and Crowley's auras are wing-shaped.

Massive, elegant, pulsating softly on their back. Aziraphale's aura is in green gradation, while Crowley's aura is in blue. Anathema gasps in amazement as their wings entwine—as if they're subconsciously protecting one to another, looking after each other. And when those wings make contact, they affect each other. There is a sparkle of blue infused to the green gradation, and vice versa.

Anathema was so hypnotized with this discovery, she didn't hear when Adam called her name.

She blinks distractedly, "yes?"

"Anathema, you look like you've just seen a ghost," Wensleydale comments. Brian looks around, big excited grin plastered on his face.

"Really? Where? I told you, this house is haunted, but you didn't believe me."

Adam scoffs. "My house is not haunted. If it's haunted, Dog must know. He should be able to sense it."

"You realise that your dog is just an ordinary dog, right?" Pepper replies, to which Adam exclaims _hey, Dog is great!_ but she carries on. "And we know, there is no ghost. Ghost is not real."

"You believe in ghosts when it's Hallowe'en!" Brian interjects.

Pepper rolls her eyes. "That's because I still want the sweet treats, so I pretend to believe it."

Wensleydale shakes his head, as if he's tired of fighting his friends. "Pepper, if you're not afraid of ghost, you shouldn't yell when we entered the haunted house at the carnival at that time—"

"I didn't yell, I was just surprised!"

Anathema shifts her gaze from the Them's debate and lands on a pair of supernatural creatures who are now looking at her. Both of them smile. Their aura wings embrace each other even more closely.

"So what do you see, Anathema?" Wensleydale asks again.

"Ah, yes." Anathema says happily, then leans over as if to share an important secret. The Them mimic her, so that they won't miss anything.

"I see love."

Aziraphale and—even though it sounds impossible, Crowley, both are blushing beautifully.

**epiphany**.

Matilda Goschbért's _Aura Etcetera_ is not rare in the slightest, but it still upset Anathema that she couldn't find the copy of hers. Being an occultist slash witch, does not make Anathema treat books differently. Like most nerds, she loves her books—no matter how often she reads it, memorizes it by heart. Reading is vacation, not obligation. Memorizing the contents does not eliminate the pleasure it brings.

So, here she is, standing in front of A.Z. Fell & Co bookshop, hoping that there will be a miracle and Aziraphale keeps a copy of _Aura Etcetera_ for her to purchase.

There is only a problem.

There is a "CLOSED" sign, hanging on the door glass and next to it, also a short explanation of when the store is opened and closed, Anathema glances at it briefly, disappointed to know that she had come at the wrong time.

She has just turned to walk away, when someone touches her arm.

"Miss Anathema!"

Aziraphale and Crowley are standing side by side, fresh coffee cups in their hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was gonna look for a book, but I think I should come in another time."

"What kind of nonsense is that," Crowley grunts. He hands his cup to Aziraphale. "You go in and help the Book Girl. Let me buy us waffles for breakfast."

"Crowley," Aziraphale begins to object. Crowley waves him dismissively.

"Don't worry, I will buy for three of us. My treat," he adds.

"Oh, that's not necessary! It's bad enough for me to interfere–"

Crowley clicks his tongue. "Just accept it. Aziraphale will want to discuss books with you and next you know, your stomach is rumbling."

Aziraphale is stunned silence, fascinated. Crowley is neither oblivious or just used to his admiring gaze, kisses Aziraphale's forehead, whispering ' _I'll be right back_ ' then waves at Anathema, and crosses the road.

In her role as the sole audience, it doesn't escape her that their wing-shaped auras looks like trying to reach each other, as if their separation—no matter how brief it is, forcing them to call one to another.

"I always want to know," Aziraphale says, swinging his hand slowly until they can hear a 'click' comes from door that is now no longer locked. "What book do you read, Miss Anathema?"

Anathema opens the door for both of them. "Nothing special. I don't limit myself. It's mostly occultism-related though: hand-lines, astrology, divination—" Anathema chuckles nervously, reminded by the burned Agnes' legacies. "—and, ah! Auras. Actually, I lost my aura book yesterday and I hope I can replace it.."

"Miranda, Amelia, or Matilda?"

"Matilda. Volume Four."

Aziraphale nods. He puts the coffee cups on a table near the window. Then he walks to the nearest shelf, humming to himself as his hands elegantly sort out the books. Less than a minute, Aziraphale let out an _aha!_ and handing a thick, maroon-covered book to Anathema.

" _Aura Etcetera_ ," he announces happily. "I wasn't close to Matilda, only met her son, Josaphat, and he really hated 'this mumbo-jumbo things'. He was positively relieved, when I bought all of his mother's collections. It is rather impolite to say this, but I'm grateful that those books—this book fell into my hands. "

Anathema lightens up. The book in her palms is the first copy, the very first edition that Matilda owned for herself. The introduction chapter was written by Amelia Parrish, apparently was also signed by her. _Your best friend 'til the end of line, Matty! –Ames_ , she wrote.

"Oh! Look, Amelia Parrish signed this edition!"

Aziraphale nods. "Yes, they were very good friends. Unfortunately I didn't have time to visit Matilda, as often as I visited Amelia." Aziraphale starts to rearrange the bookshelf. "I still remember, when she first saw my aura. She said, 'Ah! Aziraphale! You always look so gloomy!' and I guess that was because I hadn't got the trout dish that I really want. "

Anathema looks up. "She was talking about your aura?"

"That's right, Ames said she never met an angel who was as bleak as me. So gloomy, so grey." Aziraphale chuckled, then sighing with nostalgia. "Ah, that old woman. I miss her soup."

"Um," Anathema clears her throat. "but your aura is not grey, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale's hand stops in the air. "What?"

"Your aura," Anathema concentrates, and she sees Aziraphale's aura again. "the colour is not grey."

"It is not?" Aziraphale retreats from the shelf in awe, as if the possibility that the colour of his aura is other than grey never crosses his mind. Putting down an astronomy book, he asks quietly. "What's the colour?"

"Green." _You will see the truth stretched by wings across the blue sky and the forest of green._

"Green?" Aziraphale sounds enthusiastic. "Really?"

"And blue," Anathema adds and suddenly she can't stop talking. "Like Crowley's aura. Both of your auras are wing-shaped, massive and elegant. They will embrace each other when you two are close in proximity. There is no human aura that does that because human aura covers their entire body, but ... well, you are not human.

"That's what I saw yesterday. At Adam's birthday party. Your wings embracing each other, protecting each other. It's fascinating, truly beautiful."

Aziraphale blushes.

"I left for a while and you've made Aziraphale looks like a boiled crab already, should I worry?"

Aziraphale yelps in surprise. Anathema turns around to see Crowley in the doorway. The demon doesn't look much like a demon, even after Anathema is close enough to observe him. When their auras are visible, it's very easy to mistake them as the same kind of supernatural creature. They love each other so much that they slowly but surely moulding as one.

Aziraphale refuses to appear embarrassed, so it is very possible that he miracles away the crimson tints on his cheek.

"You got the waffle, dear?" He asks casually, hoping to divert the attention.

"The best in London." Crowley grins, stepping closer to the angel. Anathema notices that the pair of auras closing in on each other immediately.

"I better go home, Newton must be—"

"Nobody refuse Crowley, Book Girl. Newton can wait." Crowley says, with no room for argument. "Have breakfast with us."

"Come on, Miss Anathema."

"Really, I—" Anathema can feel her head nodding quickly, even though her mouth is ready to say 'no'.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale chides, scolding the demon. "It is impolite!"

"What?" Crowley shrugs. "Can't you blame me? I just want to hear more about these things—about how our wings embracing each other. I didn't know, you want to be so close to me, Aziraphale."

The angel can only blink, before grumbling under his breath—torn between embarrassment or annoyance at being teased. Crowley says something and Aziraphale replies hastily, bickering as they head to the back of the bookshop. Anathema follows them, not paying much attention because she's too busy texting Newton to eat cereal without her.

♦

**Excerpt from**

_ **Aura Etcetera** _ by  **Matilda Goschbért**

_Green represents deep compassion and love, with desire to serve and to help others. As the symbol of balance and harmony, green also reflects the growth in a person, the open-mindedness, a willingness to change and transform ..._

—Aura Etcetera, p. 45

_As one of the most common aura colours, blue indicates peace, organized mind, and strong determination. This aura is a common trait of someone who can tell the truth as it is, knows what they want and what they are capable of ..._

—Aura Etcetera, p. 113

_Through a series of intricate experiments, Edith Simona and Amelia Parrish had successfully proven that this strange phenomenon did occur when it came to a pair of soulmate. Pulling and influencing are no longer reactions but have transformed into synchronizing reflexes, which can only be developed if the connection between the two is very strong. This is very rare, but it is not unheard-of. When presented with this phenomenon, it is impossible not to be fascinated by its beauty ..._

—Aura Etcetera, p. 379

• **fin** •

**Author's Note:**

> > Matilda G.'s book, Aura Etcetera is fictional, but it is still based on the article I took from [here](https://www.chakra-anatomy.com/aura-colors.html).
>> 
>> I have no idea how to write in Shakespearean, the prophecy Anathema recited is a loose translation.
>> 
>> **ETA** : [This fanart](https://belindarimbi13.tumblr.com/post/185984705690/quadlinda-although-i-understood-anathema-doesnt) is the closest thing I could ever get for the visualisation of this fic. I do not relate to the artist nor the fanart. The story was written before I see the art and the artist doesn't know me. But I'd think it'd be awesome if you could see it too ♥
> 
> This story is dedicated to AC/DC squad on Twitter, as you can see that A/C auras are inspired by D/C eyes colours (painfully obvious).
> 
> I have this headcanon that some prophecies are meant to repeat themselves. And that what happens here. In case you're wondering why Adam knows that A/C live in Soho, because I'm betting they will still maintain a good relationship with Adam (maybe sending him books and such).
> 
> A brief explanation on how Aziraphale's aura was originally seen as grey: because he met Amelia around the 19th century and Aziraphale was a bit lonely without Crowley at that time and it definitely didn't improve his mood.
> 
> Why is it written from Anathema's POV? Simply because she's my girl and I love her. It's not because she can read auras, because I just got the whole plot about auras after finishing 1.5k of nonsense and I haven't gotten any single idea where the story went. #SoStupidYesImAware
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Suggestions and criticisms are always welcomed ~~please help me to improve~~. Kudos and reviews will guarantee to brighten my day ♥


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